


Some Hamilton/Star Wars au

by candiedkaydi



Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Internet, M/M, happy borth, i wrote this ages ago i have no clue what ship i was going for tbh, u can have it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 04:11:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17821643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candiedkaydi/pseuds/candiedkaydi
Summary: I never even got around to writing the stars wars part lmaoSay Alexander Hamilton was actually a reporter. And he stumbled across something that would give him the front page he's been fighting for. Now imagine him getting thrown back in time, to a galaxy far, far away. That's how Hamilton (and a few friends he wished he didn't know) find themselves in a world eerily similar to the one George Lucas made a few years prior.I'm not planning on writing this anymore lol but it's here if you want to read :P





	Some Hamilton/Star Wars au

“It’s ludicrous, Alexander,” Angelica stares him dead in the eye across her desk as she disputes him, frowning in distaste (or is that disappointment? Alexander can never tell). “You can’t let this all go to your head again. There are sometimes more important things than government conspiracies that likely don’t exist, you know. I can’t honestly let you out without feeling my conscience tug a little at how likely you are to end up in jail.” She grimaces as Alexander looks on, seething and maybe almost ready to throw something at someone. Alexander, contrary to popular belief and also contradictory to Angelica’s misguided ideas about him, knows exactly what he's doing. If only he could convince her of that, he’d be piloting straight to the front page. Instead, she’s placing her trust in the assholes behind him, sitting there like idiots enjoying a Punch & Judy show.

He opens his mouth to argue, throwing a glare at Madison and Jefferson as they snigger in the background. “Listen, Angelica. I know there’s something here. It doesn’t add up at all. I can feel that there’s something wrong with this whole business, and if you just let me investigate -- I know it sounds crazy, but we’ve got witnesses--”

“You mean like Maria Reynolds,” Jefferson scoffs behind him. Alexander’s not sure why Angelica invited him and Madison to this meeting at all; Jefferson lives on prodding at Alexander until he bites and it’s completely exhausting for both parties. That’s the only grim satisfaction Alexander gets from this: at least he can irritate Jefferson back. “Only an idiot would still trust her after that whole thing in the papers. Unless you are being an idiot, Alexander, which is not so hard to believe.”

“I have more than just Maria Reynolds, Jefferson. For your information, anonymous and reliable witnesses have come forward. All we have to do now is verify them and get them on the front page.” Alexander leans back on his chair to face Angelica, arms crossed and angry. Sitting around and talking about the thing instead of actually doing the thing accomplishes nothing and Alexander needs to be out of this room doing real reporter work, not trying to convince someone who couldn't care less.   
“Angelica-”

“No, Alexander. No. You have plenty of other leads that actually lead somewhere. Maybe do the sensible thing and follow them.” And with that, Angelica turns her attention to Madison and Jefferson, completely dismissing him.

 

Hamilton has work to do. An insurmountable object? Check. A bulldozer made of stubbornness? Also check. This was just a foreseeable bump in the road. Angelica’s approval was not vital to this plan, but it certainly would have been nice. He spends hours on his own in his office, keeping one safari tab open on his email, and the other with a Google Docs page for planning his evening, putting a strikethrough in Angelica’s name. He’s got a habit, he admits to himself, of doing things specifically because he was told not to. Alexander knows it’s because he can’t see a challenge and not recklessly grab it by its reigns, and he sees the inevitable problems that could arise with it, but he’s not sure he cares. That’s how he likes things. Fast-paced and thrilling.

So it’s only right that Alexander finds himself in front of the council building in the evening, a backpack slung on his shoulder and a baseball hat partially hiding his face. Tall, intimidating and a little ominous, the building has stood here for centuries, remodelled and reinvented countless times. It’s almost a little disappointing, then, that it’s not at all hard to get in. His worrying thirst for danger wanted the experience to be a little more like a heist, but all Alexander had to do was climb a wall and pull himself up through an open window. He guesses not many people are expected to want to break into the council building; there’s not much to gain, to be honest. Maybe some plans for the new public library? A thrilling read.   
Alexander feels the ghosts in the walls watch him restlessly, snarling at his show of bravado as he assesses the situation. He may be reckless, but Hamilton, for once, has something that might be considered a plan. What he knows:  
1) The council officially closed at 19:00, but it's nearly completely empty by 21:00. Now it’s 23:30.  
2) There are guards. They follow a set rotational route every night that takes about an hour to complete.   
3) The object is on the East side of the building  
Alexander checks his watch. He hasn’t seen a guard all night, which is less of a cause of celebration than Alexander wanted it to be. That was one part of his plan that was becoming a little confusing and might evolve into something unpredictable. Alexander can't see. He’s flailing aimlessly around in the dark, trying to find the edge of a table to hold onto a light switch or something, before hearing little whispering noises to his left. His heart rate is picking up, and he can feel his breath get shallower. Who could possibly be here at this hour? No one else, as far as he knew, would have the information that he had about this whole situation. And even if they did know the information, why would they-- oh. Alexander takes a step back, letting his heart rate go back to normal before--  
“Jefferson. Why?”  
“I told you, Jemmy! I knew he’d find us.” Jefferson grumbles. Alexander pulls out his phone and turns on the flashlight, before shining it on a partially open door to some kind of storage closet. Jefferson stands there, grinning unashamedly as if he hadn’t just been hiding out in a closet in a random building in the city.

“Why are you here?” Alexander asks, exasperated.

“We were just checking up on you, Hammy. And also, though I’m loathe to say this,--” 

“We believe you, Hamilton,” Madison interjects, stepping out of the closet himself. “I tried to stop him, but Thomas insisted we come.” He coughs and looks a little more than disgruntled.

Obviously, they wanted to break this story themselves. Jefferson spent so much of his time fluffing his hair and antagonising Alexander, he didn't have enough time to be original and now he wanted to steal his story. Alexander edges around the room, moving as inconspicuously as possible. Despite his obvious lack of morals, there is some part of Jefferson that had an idea of honour. If Alexander got to the scene first, it would be Alexander’s story, so he gropes his way around the room, nodding and humming in agreement with Jefferson. He finds himself at the door before long as Jefferson relays the daring story of how he and Madison got in here (something involving a bribe, huh? Figures). Alexander rolls his eyes. Jefferson’s an idiot. A beautiful idiot who happens to be paying little attention as Hamilton straight up runs for the door, turns the handle, sprints out, and slams the door behind him. He hears shouting as he races away, making his way to the east of the building. He knows they’ll be hot on his heels in just a few seconds, but that doesn't stop the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He silently laughs as he runs, the idea of Jefferson getting hit by the door on the way out brightening his whole evening. 

He checks to make sure, but he had been able to tell already earlier that evening that the protection on this building is suspiciously light. Where are the guards? Alexander thinks because as far as he can tell, none of them had been here this evening. He shakes away the notion that something might be wrong. He’s got bigger fish to fry.

He’s on the East, now. He’s lucky the open window is on the first floor because here is the door that will grant him all he wishes. He takes a deep breath and pushes through. 

It looks empty at first. In fact, it looks like it’s been empty for a long time, Alexander notes as he feels cobwebs break across his face. He’s about to turn heel in disappointment when something in a corner catches his eye.

“He’s here, Thomas. I think he’s found something.”

Alexander is stepping forward, astonished. An ethereal glow basking the corner with green hues is coming from a small object on a pedestal. It’s elliptical and about the size of Alexander's hand, and when he goes to lift it up, Alexander finds that it’s stuck to the table.   
“What is that?” Jefferson asks, his face mirroring Alexander's wonder. He’s reaching forwards, Madison right behind him, when a voice cuts through the silence.

“Just what do you think you’re doing here?” Jefferson, Madison, and Alexander turn to see a man in the doorway, body blocking the little light that was coming in from the corridor. 

Washington is a few feet taller than both Madison and Alexander, and around the same height as Jefferson, but even Jefferson shrinks back. He’s looking at them with anger burning behind a mask of cold calculation. 

“What’s going on?” A man follows behind Washington and is equal in the way he intimidates them. “Oh.” 

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” Washington demands. Alexander doesn’t know how to answer this question, exactly. Oh, hi, I heard you were making some kind of machine? That was highly dangerous? We were snooping around trying to break the story to the public? Each option sounds a little stupid, and Alexander’s mind is just telling him to run, get out of there, run, run, run. He’s leaning back now, hand pushing down upon the object behind him. There’s a distinct snapping noise.

“Oh, shit.”

Alexander turns back to the object. It’s only a little broken; it looks like a tiny piece has fallen off. He picks it up, fruitlessly and furiously trying to connect a piece of metal that has no way of joining back on.

“I’m sorry, shit, it’s fine, I can fix this, my friend’s an engineer, I can do this, shit--”

Behind Alexander, the man behind Washington steps forward. “Don’t touch that, leave it alone. Let go-”

“Ah, I know!” There’s a button at the back of the device, barely noticeable, but it’s pulsing red and amber and inviting Alexander to maybe do something he knows in the back of his mind is a bad idea.

“No, wait! Stop!” Alexander’s not ever really been known for listening. He’s too busy filling his mind with other, smarter things, disregarding anything that doesn’t fit. So instead of waiting, instead of stopping, he barrels ahead and presses the button. The strange man gasps a little, and Alexander can’t help but wonder what this machine is meant to be capable of. Jefferson and Madison are looking bewildered, Washington and the unnamed man are looking fearful, and all Alexander feels is confused.

“Well, that was a little anti-cli--”

The group is left gasping for oxygen that isn’t there, and without warning, there’s no one left in the room anymore. The broken piece of the device rattles across the floor in the empty space, spinning and spinning until it comes to rest and then there’s silence.

\---------------------------------------------

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not really planning on writing this anymore -- friendship ended with Hamilton and all that -- but I didn't really want to delete. So... here you go :D


End file.
